Thorne's Way

by Joan Hohl

  Lyle turned off the highway onto a road that led to yet another group of unfamiliar high-rise buildings. He brought the car to a stop at the covered entranceway to the one in the forefront.

  “Here you are, Janet—Miss Jordan,” he announced as he swung open the back door for them. “Delivered as ordered.”

  “Thanks, Lyle,” Janet murmured when she and Valerie were standing on the pavement. “Now you had better scoot back to Jonas. See you Monday.”

  Janet introduced Valerie to the security guard stationed inside the heavy glass doors, told him the younger woman would be staying with her for awhile, then led the way to a row of elevators on the other side of the wide carpeted lobby. The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. After traversing a long hall, Janet unlocked a door marked 5B.

  Compared to her tiny flat in Paris, Janet’s apartment seemed enormous to Valerie. The living room was large, as were the two bedrooms. The bedrooms each had connecting baths, and there was a small powder room off the living room for use by guests. There was also a small dining area and a kitchen equipped with all the latest conveniences.

  “This place is absolutely beautiful,” Valerie breathed as the tour ended in the kitchen. “I wouldn’t begin to guess how much it costs.”

  “Plenty.” Janet grinned, pausing in the act of pouring water into the coffeemaker. “But it’s worth every dollar.” She shrugged. “I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. This place is the reward I’ve given myself.” She glanced around possessively. “Actually, I owe it all to Jonas,” she added.

  “I don’t buy that,” Valerie scoffed. “You would have succeeded in any company. I think Mr. Thorne probably owes you.”

  “Not so.” Janet shook her head sharply. “Jonas has been very good to me.” She frowned. “Did Jonas bruise your sensitivity in some way, honey?”

  “Bruise,” Valerie repeated consideringly. “You couldn’t have chosen a better word, for I find your Jonas Thorne very abrasive.” Her voice took on a grating edge. “I don’t like him—at all.”

  “Oh, Val!”

  Janet’s worried exclamation made her feelings clear to Valerie.

  “Don’t worry, Janet,” she was quick to promise. “I have no intention of giving him any reason to be dissatisfied. If your job depends on my performance as his personal secretary, you can consider it secure. I promise you I will be a very, very good little girl—no pun intended.” She accepted the steaming cup of coffee Janet handed her, sipping at it carefully before giving a little laugh. “I plan to be the best damned secretary he has ever had—bar none.”

  Janet stared, openmouthed, at the vehemence of Valerie’s tone. “Honey, I know Jonas was a little testy once or twice on the flight home,” she said when she’d found her voice again. “But I think you’ll realize before too long that you’ve been a little hasty in your evaluation of him.”

  “And what’s your evaluation of him?” Valerie asked with unaccustomed sarcasm. “A diamond in the rough?”

  “On the contrary.” Janet’s sharp tone was accompanied by a shake of her curly-haired head. “I think you’ll find him very polished. Oh, he’s as hard as the stone you mentioned,” she conceded. “He’s had to be to get where he is today. He’s tough, yes,” she went on in a tone that bordered on reverence. “But all the rough edges he started out with are gone. And he is, at times, ruthless. But, personally, I find the combination of a brilliant, tough, ruthless mind in a supremely fit body quite awesome.”

  Awesome! Now Valerie was the one to stare open-mouthed. And the amazing thing was that Janet had spoken in deadly earnest. Janet’s attitude and a flashing memory of the ease with which both Parker and Lyle responded to Thorne’s rasping sarcasm convinced Valerie the man had the three of them completely buffaloed. Did he perhaps, she wondered, have all his employees believing he was invincible? Not me, Valerie promised herself.

  Apparently she was the only one who saw him as the brute he was. Perhaps she could see him more clearly because she had not been involved with him all along as the others had.

  The chime of the doorbell broke the silence that had settled between Valerie and Janet.

  “That’s probably Parker.” Janet sighed in obvious relief as she hurried out of the kitchen. Valerie followed at a more leisurely pace, a smile of welcome curving her lips when Parker glanced at her.

  “Good evening, Miss Jordan.” Returning her smile, Parker dipped his head respectfully before reaching for the doorknob.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Janet asked.

  “No, thank you.” Parker’s tone held regret. “I have to get back to the plane. Jonas is flying to L.A. tonight with several business associates, and I want to have everything squared away before he boards.”

  “I swear—” Janet smiled ruefully at Valerie when the door closed behind Parker, “ever since Jonas bought that Gulfstream, Parker has cared for it like his own child. And he didn’t even buy it new!” She paused, then laughed out loud. “Which isn’t too surprising, considering what those babies cost.”

  “An awful lot?” Valerie queried.

  “Millions, I’m told,” Janet answered with a grimace.

  Millions! Janet had said he’d fought his way up, but Valerie had had no idea she’d meant that far up! Her first impression came back to her in a rush; he was a formidable man, indeed.

  “Well, he’s welcome to it,” Valerie observed, picking up her two large suitcases. “Especially tonight.” Lugging the cumbersome cases as she trailed Janet to the smaller of the bedrooms, she sighed. “Personally, I’m bushed. I’m glad I don’t have to face another flight tonight.”

  “Me too,” Janet agreed heartily. “But I doubt it bothers Jonas one way or the other. He does so much dashing back and forth, I’m beginning to think he’s immune to the effects.”

  Although Janet’s tone held bemused admiration, Valerie shivered. The more she heard about him, the more inhuman he seemed. And now the reason for the free time he’d given her before reporting for work was clear. He had not acted out of consideration for her as she’d thought. Not in the least. He simply had no need of her in the office if he was in California.

  Valerie lay awake a long time in the strange bed in Janet’s guest room, but for the first time in a long time, her sleeplessness was not caused by tormenting memories of Etienne. She was tired, very tired, but her mind was alert forming plans of how to go about becoming the perfect secretary.

  * * *

  Valerie and Janet spent the weekend catching up on each other’s experiences of the last six years. In minute detail, Valerie described the orgy of sightseeing she’d indulged in during the years before she met Etienne.

  “It all sounds wonderful,” Janet sighed at one point. “Especially Greece. I’ve promised myself that some day I’ll take a long vacation in Europe.” Her eyes glowed teasingly. “Maybe I’ll save it for my honeymoon.”

  “Are you planning one?” Valerie asked eagerly.

  “Isn’t everyone?” Janet drawled, then changed the subject.

  In between their many conversations, Valerie practiced her typing on Janet’s manual machine and took dictation from her obliging friend.

  Janet and Valerie left for the office earlier than Janet’s usual time on Monday morning and went directly to the personnel office. After filling out the required forms, Valerie was given a small, plastic-coated identification card and a key to the office she would be working in.

  “Charlie McAndrew’s secretary handed that key in on Friday afternoon,” Janet told her when they left the personnel office. “You remember I told you Jonas had commandeered her?” Valerie nodded, following Janet without question as she started down the familiar hallway. Valerie was finding that the layout of the office came back to her easily, but she had never before had occasion to go up to the executive floor where Jonas Thorne worked.

  “She’ll be in the office with you today, to help you get acquainted with the routine,” Janet went on, turning right into another, shorter hall
way. “Charlie’s office is just down the hall from Jonas’s. His secretary’s name is Eileen Skopec, by the way.” Janet finished her briefing as they approached a curved, counter-high desk inside a door at the end of the hall.

  A tall, burly man of about thirty half sat, half leaned on a high stool behind the desk. From his position he had a clear view of the door and both strokes of the L-shaped hallway. As they walked up to the desk a big smile creased the man’s face.

  “Good morning, Janet.” His smile widened. “You’re a little early this morning, aren’t you?”

  “A little, yes.” Janet returned his smile. “Steve, this is Jonas’s new secretary, Valerie Jordan—Val, Steve Dunn. He’ll be checking you in and out of here every day.” Janet nodded at the door. “You’ll be using that entrance from now on.”

  “Welcome to the funny farm, Valerie.” Steve grinned broadly.

  “Thank you—I think.” Valerie smiled uncertainly. “Funny farm?” Her eyebrows went up questioningly.

  “Just an expression.” Steve laughed. “Even though things can get pretty crazy around here. Especially when the coal cracker goes on a rampage.”

  Frowning in confusion, Valerie glanced at Janet, who smiled wryly and explained, “Steve is referring to our employer. He’s been on a rampage ever since his secretary left.”

  “Maybe now that you’re here,” Steve nodded at Valerie, “Jonas will go back to his normal occasional growl.”

  Valerie smiled weakly and groaned silently. Good Lord, she thought, walking to the metal door to glance out of the small square of window. It’s not enough that I have Janet’s job riding on my shoulders, now I find I’m also expected to soothe Thorne’s ruffled feathers. She stood staring out the small pane several seconds before she realized this was the entrance where Lyle had dropped Thorne off on Wednesday afternoon. His own private entrance, she mused wryly, and I’m to be allowed the use of it. How lucky can one girl get? A tiny shiver stole along her spine and she turned back to Janet abruptly.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked brightly, in an effort to dispel the chill of apprehension.

  “Up.” Janet indicated an elevator across the hall. “See you later, Steve.” She waved as she walked away.

  “Very likely,” Steve drawled, before adding, “Nice meeting you, Valerie. Good luck with the cracker.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Steve,” Valerie called back as she followed Janet into the elevator. The boxlike car swept up, then came to a smooth stop. The doors swooshed open to reveal a hallway carpeted in dark green plush. Janet ushered Valerie out with a sweeping of one arm.

  “There are only two suites of offices on this floor. Jonas has the larger suite. Charlie has the other.” She walked down the hall to a walnut door that was devoid of all marking. “This door is locked every night. You’ll have to use your key.”

  After opening the door, Valerie stood back for Janet to precede her into the office. Following her, Valerie took three steps into the room and stopped in her tracks, her lips parting in surprise.

  Whoever had decorated the room had considered both efficiency and comfort. The latest model in electric typewriters rested on the side of a large desk. Within easy reach were a word processor and a copying machine. The floor was carpeted with the same plush that covered the hall. The room’s two large windows were draped with a loosely woven material in a rich cream color. Three chairs—one behind the desk, two in front of it—were upholstered in tawny, glove-soft leather. The overall effect was both businesslike and sumptuous.

  “This, of course, is the cell you’ll be working in.” Janet laughed at Valerie’s bemused expression. Striding across the room, she threw open a door on the wall nearest the desk. “And this,” she nudged Valerie inside the room, “is where the warden works.”

  Jonas Thorne’s office was the epitome of understated elegance. The carpet in this room was not the same as in the hall. A chocolate brown color, it was wonderfully, luxuriously thick.

  The desk looked huge, even in the large room, and gleamed like satin in the morning light. The wall behind the desk had one enormous window draped in a roughly woven beige fabric. A long couch, covered in white leather, was placed along the wall facing the desk. Two chairs in a misty orange leather fronted the desk and a smaller one in the same color rested beside the desk. Valerie did not have to be told the small chair was the one she’d sit in to take dictation.

  “And this,” Janet walked to a door in the far wall, “leads to Jonas’s bath and dressing room.” She grinned at Valerie’s lifted eyebrows. “Yes, it’s a full bath. He has been known to work through the night, then catch a few hours’ sleep on the couch. He keeps a closet full of clothes here. When he has those—” she hesitated, as if searching for words, then shrugged “—all-night sessions, he simply has a shower, puts on fresh clothes and starts all over again.”

  “Is he some kind of workaholic?” Valerie asked, peering into the black-and-gold tiled bathroom.

  “Full time,” Janet stated.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Eileen,” Janet returned warmly, smiling at the small, plump brunette standing in the doorway between the offices.

  After introducing Valerie to Eileen, Janet left the office with a wave of her hand and a promise to come for Valerie at lunchtime.

  “Well, I must admit I’m glad to see you,” Eileen laughed as Janet swept out.

  “Has working for Mr. Thorne been that bad?” Valerie frowned.

  “Bad? Not really.” Eileen shook her head, leading the way back to the other room. “He’s very exact, and he expects his secretary to follow his example—but he’s no ogre.”

  Not very reassuring, Valerie thought, remembering her easygoing boss in Paris. Then she was forced to concentrate as Eileen launched into a detailed explanation of what Thorne expected from his secretary. Time flew by, and, concentrating with every brain cell she possessed, Valerie was unaware of someone’s entering the office until, glancing up with a bright smile, Eileen said, “Good morning, Jonas.”

  Digesting the fact that apparently everyone called him by his given name, Valerie turned from the copying machine as Thorne replied:

  “Good morning, Eileen—Miss Jordan.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Thorne.”

  As she returned his greeting, Valerie marveled at the steadiness of her own voice. Her tone had conveyed a cool composure she was far from feeling, for on making eye contact with her employer, an uncomfortably familiar chill ran down the length of her spine.

  Within the few seconds he paused before striding to his office, Valerie’s eyes took a complete inventory of him. He was, again, suited in gray, a darker shade this time, and his eyes seemed to reflect the color, showing not a hint of blue. His sharply defined features gave his face a coldly forbidding cast that the straight line of his mouth did nothing to dispel. Valerie’s estimation of him was exactly as it had been at first sight: he was cold, emotionless, formidable.

  Valerie was fully aware that while she assessed him his eyes were flicking coolly over her. As they did, his expression seemed to tighten into implacable hardness. A tiny shiver followed the chill as she felt herself dismissed. At the doorway to his office he paused again to issue a terse order.

  “I want one of you in here at once to take dictation.”

  For several seconds pure, blind panic gripped Valerie, and then she squashed it as Eileen offered softly, “I’ll do it. You stay with the machine.”

  Reaching for the pad and pencil on the desk, Valerie shook her head determinedly, and even managed a brief smile.

  “I’ve got to start sometime; it may as well be now.”

  Having issued the brave statement she straightened her spine and walked unhesitatingly into Thorne’s office.

  “Close the door—please.”

  The harshness of Thorne’s order was not relieved in the least by his sardonically tacked-on “please.”

  Controlling the sudden urge to slam the door shut, Vale
rie closed it carefully before walking to the chair beside his huge desk. Seating herself on the edge of the chair, back straight, legs seemingly glued together, she poised the pencil over the pad and glanced up at him with what she hoped was a professionally expectant expression.

  Though his own expression was bland, his eyes mocked her little show of secretarial efficiency.

  “Are you quite ready?”

  “Yes—sir.”

  The brief flicker in Thorne’s eyes at her tiny, but deliberate pause before adding the term of respect sent a small thrill of pleasure coiling through Valerie’s midsection. The equally brief flash of amusement that replaced the flicker of annoyance transformed her thrill of pleasure into a disquieting sensation that felt very uncomfortably like real respect.

  Now Valerie was annoyed—although she succeeded in hiding it. She did not want to feel even a glimmer of respect for this man. This was the monster, Valerie reminded herself harshly, who was prepared to accept Janet’s resignation in the event she could not meet his high standards in the execution of her duties.

  At this point all other considerations were cut off as Thorne launched into dictation.

  By the time his quietly clipped voice came to a halt, Valerie felt like all her nerves had been tied into tight, throbbing knots. Her sole consolation was the somewhat surprising realization that she had kept up with him. As she concentrated on getting out of his office while maintaining at least the frayed remnants of her earlier composure, Valerie sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the urge that had set her to practicing her shorthand with Janet over the weekend.

  “How did it go?” Eileen’s query came with the closing of the door that connected the two offices.

  “The man’s a machine,” Valerie declared in a tone that held both weariness and hard conviction. “How long was I in there?”

  “Exactly two hours and thirty-seven minutes,” Eileen laughed, glancing at her watch. “Not too long, really,” she murmured. “He’s been known to go on a lot longer than that.” Her grin turned into a soft, compassionate smile. “The first time is always the hardest. You’ll get used to his ways.”